D is for Dangerous
by Blue-Eyed-Blacksmith
Summary: My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. I was the Mockingjay. The rebels were defeated. I was taken prisoner by the Capital. I am going back to the Hunger Games. Well, third time's a charm, right? Mockingjay wasn't the end, it was just the beginning.


**I do not own The Hunger Games.**

****This takes place at the end of Mockingjay, towards the end of chapter 24. Everything that happened in the books is true up until that point. Then comes my part.

Enjoy. (:

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It's not like I haven't seen bombs go off before. I've seen plenty over just the last few days. I'm also no stranger to murder involving innocent children. I've killed a good number of people in this past year myself, some of them just as young as me. But this bomb wasn't like any of the others, and that child wasn't some ruthless Tribute. That bomb blew up my sister. Primrose—my beloved Prim.

If only it had been me. But no, somehow was never me.

Prim wasn't the only one I lost that day. I was informed when I came to that Thirteen had also been blown to bits. There were few survivors. None of my loved ones or friends were among them. My mother. Haymitch. Beetee. Boggs. Annie. Delly. Johanna. Even Buttercup. All of them… gone.

So much for our 'flawless' plan to invade the Capital.

After the bomb went off, I was thrown fifty feet through the air. I collided with a solid, concrete wall. I broke some ribs and my left arm. My head also suffered a good amount of damage. But what do injuries matter? The Capital doctors can repair anyone if you're important enough. Physically, at least. I passed out upon impact. My head only has a few bandages. I don't even have a cast on my arm. Instead, I have shackles.

A Capital soldier quickly took my body to be tended to, while the rest of his comrades defeated the rebel forces. We were easily outnumbered. Gale was already there when they carried me in. Peeta came shortly after, I was told, kicking and screaming the entire way. Coin was executed in front of all of Panem. Thirteen, and everyone inside, was taken out next. And now comes the slow process of rebuilding the Districts. All eleven of them. There is no longer to be a District 12. District 7 is going to take up coal mining alongside their lumber duties, apparently. If only Johanna were here. I'm sure she'd have some sarcastic remarks to make. I wish she was here; I miss her prickly, yet genuine, personality.

Instead, the Star Crossed Lovers share a prison cell together. Normally I would have been thankful—if anyone could make being a prisoner of the Capital worth living, it was Peeta. But the Peeta I knew and loved was long gone, at least, ninety percent of the time. We were chained up in opposite corners of the room, so I was in no physical harm. But they put us in the same cell intentionally, because they knew that his words would break me more and more each day—mentally. Any progress we had made in getting the old Peeta back was lost once they brought him back to his old prison cell. He screamed at me for hours upon end, accusing me and calling me horrible names. I deserved it, but it still hurt to hear it come from the baker's lips.

I was completely certain this was Peeta's cell. Vivid paintings were all scattered across the walls. A flaming Mockingjay. A dead Rue in the form of a flower. Johanna as a piece of lumber, being sawed in half. Fish Finnick, a trident in his side. The female morphling, her throat ripped out. Cato, or what remained of him, lying on the floor where the mutts left him to die. And so many others, all just morbid as the last. They hadn't bothered to erase his paintings. Maybe it was because they knew the pictures bothered me. Maybe it was because all of the pictures were made out of Peeta's blood.

Gale is a few cells over. I've never seen him since the day I arrived here, but I can recognize his screams. They never torture Peeta and I. They come for Gale at least once per day. And yet, as much as I thought I loved Gale, I always still fear that maybe, just maybe, this time they're coming for Peeta. And that thought terrifies me even more.

There are few times when the old Peeta resurfaces. He always reassures me that everything will be okay. Sometimes he tells me stories—childhood memories, or moments we shared. I savor those few times he actually seems to remember who he is. But those moments always end, and then he goes back to shrieking the word 'mutt' repeatedly at me.

Three weeks. For three weeks they kept us locked in these cells without speaking a word of our fate to us. But today was different. Today, the president decided to grace us with his presence to explain things.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Katniss, but you've made quite a mess of things," He licked his ruby lips; they were fresh with a new coat of blood. "I've been busy putting the pieces back together."

I spat at his feet. In the corner, Peeta started wailing. Snow made a brief motion with his hand and a guard walked in, quickly sedating the blonde. I flinched as his limp body smacked against the floor.

"Oh Katniss, don't be so hostile," he went on. "I always considered us dear friends," He gave me a smile so sinister that a young child would quiver under their covers.

"Of course," I snarled. "Because a _dear friend_ would blow up everyone I love."

Snow waved a hand, dismissing my words as if they held little importance. "Yes, that was a bit rude of me, wasn't it? My sincerest apologies," I would have lunged at him if I weren't contained by my chains; trying to race forward to attack him would only hurt myself, which was pointless. "But I do have good news—and I'm sure you of all people will be excited."

I narrowed my eyes. "Oh?"

"The 76th Hunger Games are approaching," I flinched, and Snow's smile grew larger. "This year, the Tributes won't be held as dearly to everyone's hearts as before."

"Aw, how sad," I grunted.

"This year, only traitors from each District will be entering the Games," he went on. "Criminals, thieves, murderers, and other such persons..."

I swallowed hard and regained my voice. "Shame only twenty-two tributes will be competing this year."

"Oh don't you worry about that," I felt like a snake was staring back at me, his eyes peering into my soul. Snow was just ecstatic to see that his words were getting to me. "As a last tribute to District 12, two traitors will be taken from the remains of their District as well."

"What an honor," I retorted sarcastically. It was beginning to become difficult to keep my voice steady.

"I'm glad you think so," he purred. "Then it will just make your day to learn that you and Mr. Mellark are those two lucky people."

I made a choking sound and fell to my knees. I found myself gasping for breath; I felt like I was drowning. My eyes were instantly drawn to the sleeping blonde boy in the corner. He looked so much like himself when he slept—his features were peaceful, not drawn up in hate. He was so much like the Peeta I remembered.

"N-Not Peeta," I pleaded, my voice hoarse.

"And who would you like to have me put in his place?" Snow quarried. "Your friend Gale?"

I shivered at the thought, but it didn't last long. Lately, things were starting to make more sense in my head. The idea of Peeta, still in his hijacked state, wandering some maddening terrain with crooks and killers searching for him made my heart skip a beat.

I was desperate. "Anyone but him," I whispered, still speaking of the baker's son. I stared pleadingly up at the president, practically begging him with my eyes. It was sickening—I was disgusted by myself. But I had to, for Peeta.

Snow paused to examine my intense gaze. "It's too bad you were never this convincing before," he commented. He then shook his head absently. "The Star Crossed Lovers will have one final adventure together," He cast me with one last venomous grin as he crossed the room to the door. "Rest up Katniss, your training starts tomorrow."

It was as if he was slamming the door in my face as he exited. I plummeted numbly to my side where I curled up in a tight ball. My eyes locked on Peeta's sleeping body and remained there. I found myself mumbling softly, and realized I was again using a technique one of my old doctors had taught me. I repeated the same list out loud for what seemed like hours.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. I was the Mockingjay. The rebels were defeated. I was taken prisoner by the Capital. I am going back to the Hunger Games. Peeta is going with me. He might be killed. He will probably be killed. It is all my fault.

After a long while Peeta finally stirred and opened his eyes. It was an extreme comfort to see that those blue orbs weren't full of their usual vigor. He slowly looked around the room before he noticed me, huddled in my ball on the floor.

"Katniss," he called, his voice pained. It killed the old Peeta to see me distressed.

"Peeta," I merely spoke his name, wanting to say more but finding I wasn't able to. He noticed my open mouth and waited patiently for me to get out what I had to say. I used all of my strength to push myself up into a sitting position. My voice broke as I spoke. "Peeta… We're going back."

He momentarily opened his mouth to question my response, though shut it again almost instantly. He knew. He didn't need to ask—he just knew. I was filled with dread as I watched those beautiful eyes fill with fear.

"No…" he whimpered.

"Peeta, don't worry," It took everything in me to keep my voice steady. I had to seem like I had it all together. Like I had a plan. I had to keep this Peeta with me, I couldn't let the other side of him slip out. I needed his cooperation so we could get through this. So we could survive together. "Peeta, we're going to be oka-"

"N…N-No!" the baker's voice became more panicked. I gripped my shirt tightly. I could sense the tension behind his soft side daring to break free, to hijack him. I was going to lose him again.

"Peeta, we've done this before, we can do it again. Together, we can-"

"NO!" he wailed. He began to flail his limbs as he tried to free himself from his shackles. He began to turn savage, wailing and thrashing as he attempted to escape. But our restraints were far too sturdy and solid to break with mere human strength. It was pointless. But he didn't care.

"I'll protect you Peeta," I whispered, my voice losing volume. I began to lose hope. How I could I keep someone alive when they start screaming and freaking out like this every other ten seconds? The instant we found shelter, the other Tributes would come running toward all the noise Peeta would make. There was no way this would be possible. And yet… I stared at his contorted face and looked past the rage to see the boy who had never had never given up on me. The boy who had risked his life for me, on multiple occasions. The boy I loved. "I'll keep you safe…"

"NO NO NO!" His screams echoed throughout the entire ward. It was no use anymore; he was gone. The hijacked state had won, and had full control over him. "THEY CAN'T! NOT AGAIN! _NOT AGAIN!_"

I was forced to sit and listen to the blonde's terrible shrieks as he slid back into the side of him that despised me. He continued a similar melody of pleading and begging for another hour. It was agonizing. It didn't matter how tightly I pushed my hands against my ears, I still heard ever word loud and clear. Eventually, the boy passed out—probably from how worked up he became. I curled back up into my usual ball and closed my eyes. The tighter I hugged my knees to my chest, the smaller I felt. Maybe if I was lucky I would just disappear. And I could take Peeta with me. And we would finally be safe.

I began to tremble again. As if on cue, my lips began to recite my familiar therapy method.

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years old. I was the Mockingjay. The rebels were defeated. I was taken prisoner by the Capital. I am going back to the Hunger Games. Peeta is going with me. I am going to keep him safe. He will not die. He will win. He has to win.

Well, third time's a charm, right?


End file.
